


Interlude in the Woods

by castlealbion



Series: Only the Fullest Heart [6]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Days of BatB, 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast Challenge, Adam is exasperated, Baby Belle is a smarty pants, F/M, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlealbion/pseuds/castlealbion
Summary: One day Belle experiences a sudden flood of memories from before the curse was enacted and she remembers that her and Adam have in fact met once before.





	Interlude in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> I was totally watching Dan Stevens in Sense and Sensibility when I wrote this...hence the girl on the horse and it kind of expanded from there. I like to think that Belle was just as sassy as a child as Hermione was and I took a lot of influence from Emma in Harry Potter.

30 DAYS OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

DAY 6 - FIRST

“Oh. My. God!” Belle stopped dead in her tracks in front of the window.  
“What is it my lady?” Mrs Potts was all concern as she watched the color drain from Belle’s face.  
“I don’t believe it. How can it be?” she whispered, staring at the scene in front of her.  
Mrs Potts followed her gaze and saw nothing of concern, just the Prince playing with Chip out on the grass.  
“I need to sit.” Belle flopped down on a bench, her eyes never wavering from Adam as he ran and rolled with the little boy.  
She was shaking as the realization hit her and a memory came flooding back. Resting her head against the windowpane, she closed her eyes allowing the images to flow, never noticing Mrs Potts hurrying from the room to get help.

MANY YEARS EARLIER  
“Papa! Can I go and help Pere Robere today? He has to clean all the pews and he said he would give me 6 deniers if I would help him.”  
Belle hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation, 6 deniers was a huge amount of spending money at her age. She was already doing the figures in her head. A loaf for her new friend Agathe and maybe some sweets to share. For today, those were all the desires she had in the world.  
If only Papa let her go.  
“I’m not sure Belle, it might not be safe.”  
“Oh Papa, you always say that. I know the way, it's only 7 buildings away and the market is going, I won’t be alone...or you could walk me.”  
She knew Papa would let her go, all she had to do was open her eyes wide and smile brightly.  
“Alright Belle, you may go. But be home by dusk.”  
“Thank-you Papa!” she jumped onto his lap, chubby arms wrapping around his neck while she peppered his cheek with kisses. “I’ll be good, I promise!”  
She skipped the whole way to the chapel, ignoring the curious looks from the villagers. In the year since Papa had brought them here she had tried her best to make friends with them, but nothing had worked. None of the adults thought that a little girl was worth talking to, except maybe the potter and of course Pere Robere. All of the other girls in town spent their days doing laundry and housework and thought books were boring. All they wanted to talk about was dresses and flowers and boys.  
Belle tried to be nice, even though none of them were nice to her. All in all she was a lonely little girl who just wanted a real friend.  
“Hello little one!” Agathe called out as Belle skipped by.  
“Hello Agathe,” Belle stopped to hug the beggar woman, who was always nice to her. “I’m going to help Pere Robere, he’s going to pay and then I’m going to get us some sweets after.”  
“Well that's very nice of you, you sweet girl.”  
Belle liked it very much when Agathe smiled at her, it made her feel happy in her heart, much like she supposed a girl with a mother would feel.  
The door to the chapel was open when Belle arrived, and she peeked inside, not wanting to startle the priest.  
“Pere Robere? Are you there?” she called, stepping inside the cool interior.  
“Ah! Petit Belle. I had quite forgotten you were coming today I’m so sorry but we cannot clean today.”  
“Oh.” Belle’s heart sank, she had been looking forward to helping and listening to the young priest’s stories of other towns and cities he’d seen. And she hated to break her promise to Agathe, the poor woman had little enough in life to look forward to.  
Seeing the child’s crestfallen expression, the priest took pity.  
“I will pay you your wages today if you like, and we can still do the work tomorrow.”  
“Ok.” Belle still looked at the ground, the toes of her boot tracing patterns on the tile.  
The priest shook his head with a smile. This one was special, with a hunger he had never before experienced in one so young.  
“Would you like to borrow one of my books?”  
That did it. Belle’s eyes lit up with delight as she ran toward him.  
“Really and truly? I would love that so much.”  
“Take whichever one you know you can read, and then when you are done, you may borrow another.”  
“Oh Pere Robere! Thank you!” she hugged him tightly, so excited to have a new adventure. Papa brought her a book each year from the markets he took his music boxes to, but each one was quickly read and she had long outgrown most of them. A new book to read now was indeed a rare and special treat.  
The decision could not be made lightly and her little brow furrowed as she examined each treasure carefully. There were many that looked so very interesting, especially a large volume of plays by someone named Shakespeare, but the language in that one seemed a bit too much for her at present. Perhaps when she was 9. Eventually she chose a slim volumes that looked to be about knights and princesses and the words weren’t too hard.  
“I’ll take this one.” she stated, sliding the book into her apron.  
“Excellent choice, here is your coin so you can go and eat with your friend.”  
Belle smiled widely, grateful and thankful before darting out the door.  
At the market she bought a loaf of bread, a jar of jam and two little cakes, a veritable feast for a young lady of 8 and her only friend.  
“Agathe! Look what I got.”  
“Well now, that does look tempting.”  
Belle sat on the stone fountain beside her, spreading her cloth and arranging their lunch.  
Around them the villagers griped and moaned, with good reason, as they spent what coin they had left after the latest tax collection.  
“He’s having another ball, tonight! That’s every week.”  
“Mark my words he’ll be after more money come next week.”  
“There’s nothing left to give, soon I’ll be paying him for the privilege of ploughing my fields.”  
“Maybe once he marries he will settle…”  
“Marry? He’s a libertine, no young woman is safe around him. He’s going to tax us into destitution so he can chase debutantes like his father did.”  
“I heard he’s horrid, that he yells at the serving girls. They say that he has a heart of ice and stone.”  
“Has anyone ever even seen him?”  
Belle and Agathe listened, though Belle didn’t really understand all of what was said.  
“This Prince must be a very bad man, I think.”  
“He certainly appears to be a bit of a villain.” Agathe remarked thoughtfully, a trace of amusement in her eyes.  
“One of the Mayor’s daughters, Nannette,” Belle said around a mouthful of bread. “She said that he dresses in jewels and that even his skin sparkles. I think that sounds quite silly.”  
“Very silly indeed, I agree.”  
“Maybe they make him, or he’s pretending. The villagers say his father was very awful.”  
“He was, but it's doubtful, he seems to enjoy every minute of being spoiled and nasty.”  
“He needs a spanking.”  
Agathe laughed, her mind whirling through the possibilities. The events she was about to set in motion weighed heavily on her, but she had made a promise long ago and she intended to keep it. Somehow.  
With lunch done, Belle walked back home to see her papa. He was busy in the workshop and barely noticed her there. The book was burning a hole in her apron but she didn’t want to read it in her room or even in the cottage. Her little hiding spot by the brook called to her and since her father would be engrossed until supper, Belle decided that would be her destination. Gathering some fruit and her baby blanket she walked out behind her home and past the village wall.  
A rolling green hill led upwards, then down into the trees. Beside a small clearing of wildflowers was her tree. An ancient oak, drinking from the stream and twisted in such a way that several branches formed a cradle of sorts, large enough for her to settle into. Every time she needed to be alone this is where she came, to cry, sing, laugh, read - all were carried out here in this almost sacred spot. The tree was her friend, and he alone knew all her secrets.  
Late morning turned into the bright afternoon as Belle lay in her tree, devouring the new story of a man named Arthur who became a great King. She imagined the misty woods and great stone fortresses of Britain, the clinking bright armor of the knights and the rich gowns of their ladies.  
Sighing contentedly she escaped into this different world.  
The sound of a horse’s hooves caught her attention and she looked out through the leaves to see a stunning white horse walking into the clearing. He was massive, with a long flowing mane and hooves almost as big as her head she imagined. He was so beautiful. Belle saw his rider, a man with hay colored hair, curling from a blue ribbon, a dark blue coat stretched across his shoulders, finer than anything she’d ever seen before. He was certainly a stranger and she found herself anxious to see his face.  
The horse stopped close by and Belle lay still as stone, heart hammering as the rider dismounted.  
“Some peasant has left a filthy blanket behind.” he muttered to his horse, his boot kicking at her precious blanket.  
Belle’s stash of fruit spilled out and he bent down to pick it all up.  
“Look Ragnar, they left me a present.” he laughed mockingly, biting into a peach. “Not bad, I wonder if the poor wretch is still around.”  
Belle watched in growing anger as he plucked her blanket up with two fingers, holding it out in front of him as though it was infested with vermin.  
“We can use this to wipe that mud off your saddle.”  
That was it. Belle grabbed the nearest small object, an acorn and launched it with deadly accuracy at the man’s head.  
“Leave it alone, that’s my blanket! She yelled from her perch as the acorn struck home.  
The man jumped, holding the back of his head.  
“Ouch! What the bloody hell!” he turned, just as Belle let another acorn fly, this one striking his forehead.  
“Go away!” she cried.  
“I’ll have you hanged!” the man roared, seeking the sound of her voice. “Come out here you disgusting wretch!”  
“No! Give me back my blanket!”  
“Ah ha!”  
Belle screamed and kicked as a large hand grasped her ankle, yanking her out of her hiding spot.  
“Stop it you little brat.”  
“Get off me! Leave me alone!” she kicked at his knees as he hauled her down, her little fists pummelling his arms.  
“Quit your squirming…..why, you’re just a little girl!” the man said incredulously as she continued to struggle.  
He put her on her feet gently, still grasping her shoulders tightly and holding her at arm’s length so her boots wouldn’t connect with his shins.  
“You’re a vicious little heathen aren’t you?” he chuckled.  
Tears pricked Belle’s eyes as she fought for her most prized possession.  
“Please, Sir.” she pleaded.  
“Stop kicking and I’ll think about it.”  
Belle did as he asked, going still and daring to look up. Her eyes widened as she took in the man’s appearance, his smooth skin and eyes bluer even than the sky. She assumed that this was what the older girls in the village meant when they called a boy handsome. Belle thought he was beautiful.  
“May I have my blanket now?”  
“What’s the magic word?”  
“Please.”  
The blanket was draped gently over her shoulder.  
“I don’t know what’s so special about it, it's very old and ugly.”  
“You are not a nice man!” Belle snapped.  
The man simply shrugged, unconcerned at the opinion of the little peasant girl.  
“And you are a very rude child. Kicking and throwing things, you could have simply asked for your rag.”  
“Oh no, I was terribly rude wasn’t I?” Belle felt shame. “Papa always says that I should think before I act.”  
“Your papa gives good advice, you should heed it.”  
“I’m very sorry that I threw acorns at you, Sir.” she said with all the dignity her age could muster.  
The man laughed, but she noticed that his eyes stayed cold and distant.  
The horse had moved to drink from the water and Belle took a step toward it, caught between distrust and curiosity.  
Curiosity won.  
“He is very beautiful, your horse.” she took another step closer.  
“His name is Ragnar, he isn’t dangerous. He’s thrown a shoe and can’t walk much further.”  
“Oh.” Belle reached out to run a hand over the animal’s flank. “The village blacksmith is good with horses, they say he is fair and that he does good work.”  
“How far is this village? I need to be at the castle by nightfall.”  
“For the ball?” Belle wrinkled her nose, remembering the comments she’d overheard in the marketplace. “Why would you want to go to that?”  
“Why to have a good time, of course.” he laughed.  
“It doesn’t sound like a good time.”  
“And what’s your idea of a good time oh mighty one? Rolling in the grass and climbing trees?”  
“Yes.” Belle said defensively. “And reading books.”  
“You can read?” he looked astonished.  
“Of course I can read.”  
Prince Adam chuckled at the sight of stubborn pride and insult on the little girl’s face. He found himself amused by the little hellion, some fire in a seemingly neverending parade of sameness. Not a single person in the court or his castle would ever dare to act toward him in this way, his temper was legendary and his spite even more so. For some odd reason though he was fascinated by the child, the boredom and emptiness that plagued him fading away for the moment.  
“And what, pray tell, do you read young miss? Laundry lists? Recipes?”  
He watched her stomp back to the tree, where something had fallen during their skirmish. It was a book, leather-bound and expensive looking. She brought it back and handed it to him carefully.  
“Please don’t take it, I only borrowed it. It doesn’t belong to me.” her dark eyes were serious and fearful and he noticed that she held the book as carefully as one would a newborn child.  
“I won’t abscond with your book, I promise.”  
“What does abscond mean?”  
“Run away with.” he muttered leafing through the book.  
Surprisingly it was one of his boyhood favorites, a tale about King Arthur that he had read many times. He was amazed that the little waif in front of him could read letters, let alone this.”  
“This is a good book, but I warn you it has a sad ending.”  
“I don’t mind.” she shrugged. “Not all stories can be happy.”  
Very true, he thought, a tug of actual emotion pulling at a corner of his heart.  
“I don’t understand all the words though, I’m still learning.”  
He was in a rare mood, one for indulgence and though he had a ball planned that evening, he had time to spare. For some reason the child intrigued him, perhaps because here was a female he wasn’t trying to seduce or who was trying to seduce him. She reminded him of….something he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.  
A flash of pain. A bittersweet memory and the anger and spite rose back up, a familiar balm.  
“You’d make a better use of your time if you went home and had your mother teach you how to keep a home and raise children.” he stated cruelly.  
The girl’s eyes went wide, fat tears spilling down her cheeks, her head jerking as though slapped. She snatched the book from him, cradling it close to her chest with the blanket.  
“I don’t have a mama.” she whispered as though he had broken her heart and she started to walk away.  
Something like guilt rose up in his chest.  
“Wait!” she stopped in her tracks her little shoulders stiff and unyielding.  
He was an ass, he knew it. The person he had become was a warped and twisted excuse for a man. All he lived for was pleasure, sin and wealth, he had no close relationships with anyone, no friends. It had to be that way, it was too late to go back now and his course in life was set. He almost relished the opportunity to be as despicable as possible.  
So why then did this child seem to touch him? Was it because in her, he saw himself as he once had been - innocent, curious and brave. Before everything but greed and vanity had been beaten out of him.  
“Come back here, child, I’m sorry.” he was exasperated with himself and with her for making him feel.  
She turned slowly, her cheeks still wet, her eyes cautious. With a sigh he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, waving it at her.  
Belle considered, then took it from him, wiping her face and eyes and angry that she had allowed the pretty man to see her cry.  
“Why are you so mean to me? I never did anything to you.”  
He looked pained, a look of regret darkening his features. Belle decided that he was the most confusing person that she had ever met.  
And the most interesting.  
“Show me what words you don’t understand.” he sighed in the same way the baker did whenever she asked too many questions.  
Unwilling to let the opportunity pass by she opened the book, skimming through until she found one, pointing with her finger on the page.  
“This one.”  
The prince leaned his head over, taking the book from her hands and lowering himself onto the grass. He patted the ground beside him and Belle eagerly planted herself alongside him.  
“This word is undulated.”  
“Un-due-lay-ted.” she sounded out carefully. “What does it mean/”  
“Moving, like a wave.” he made a motion with his hand, causing her to giggle.  
He smiled and Belle thought it almost reached his eyes this time.  
They stayed that way for some time, patiently going over the few words she didn’t know. The sun rose higher in the sky, drenching the little clearing and turning the man’s hair to glistening gold. She found she wanted to touch it.  
“Mister, you have very pretty hair.”  
“I know, I’m quite fond of it.” he chuckled.  
“You are very vain.”  
“I’m handsome and rich.” he shrugged.” I am allowed to be vain.”  
“But you aren’t every nice, and you aren’t happy.”  
“I’m being nice to you.” she could see the flare in his yes as her statement hit home.  
“Only because you felt bad that you made me cry.” she said matter of factly.  
It was true, though it had never made him feel bad any other time.  
“How old are you anyway? He asked suddenly.  
“I’m 8.” she said proudly.  
“Well when you are 21, like me, you will understand better how the world works.”  
“You are so old!” she gasped, at her age anyone older than 15 was more than grown up.  
“Hey.” he sounded insulted. “I am a very young man in my prime.”  
“What does that mean?”  
She noticed he went red in the cheeks, stuttering.  
“I...ummm…..never you mind. The point is, I’m not old.”  
“You are older than Gaston, and he is pretty old.”  
“And who is Gaston? Your sweetheart?” he teased.  
“Ewwwww.” she cried. “He’s not nice either, but he’s a war hero and everyone loves him.”  
Except her, she didn’t like him at all. But this man she did like, even if he was mean, and old, there was just something about him.  
“Is he as pretty as I am?” the man laughed.  
She considered him seriously, the arch of his brow, straight nose, white teeth, the shape of his mouth and she kept coming back to those eyes.  
“No Sir, he’s not anywhere near as pretty as you are.”  
“Then I am satisfied. Now, I would appreciate it if you would stop holding me up and show me how to get to your village. He stood, holding out a hand to help her up.  
“It's really very easy, it's right over the hill.”  
“Hmmm seems complicated. I would appreciate an escort my lady.” he bowed deeply, laughing. “I think you may see how difficult it is from the back of my horse.”  
Belle jumped up and down in excitement.  
“Really? I can really ride him?”  
“How else can you show me? Come on.”  
She allowed him to hoist her in his arms and into the saddle, her long bony legs gripping the animal’s sides. The Prince hauled himself into the saddle behind her, placing his arms under hers to grip the reins.  
“Put your hands on mine so you can feel how to direct him.” she did as he asked, his long fingers helping her grip the leather. “Right then, which way?”  
Belle pointed and they set out at a slow walk, the sensation of moving so high off the ground strange, but exhilarating.  
“Are you enjoying yourself?”  
“Yes, Sir very much.”  
“Can I tell you a secret, since we appear to be friends now?”  
She nodded, her little heart full of the joy and adventure the day had brought so far.  
“I don’t have a mother either.” he murmured, and for the first time in years he allowed himself to feel the grief of her loss. “I was a little older than you when she died.”  
“I’m very sorry.” she leaned her head on his arm in sympathy. “I don’t know what happened to mine. Papa won’t tell me. But I never knew her. I miss her though. Was your mother wonderful?”  
“She was. Beautiful and kind and good. I loved her very much.”  
“She must have loved you very much too.”  
Belle twisted in the saddle to attempt to hug him, both of them silent for a moment.  
The Prince wondered at the little baggage in his arms and the first truly real human interaction he’d experienced in many years. For the first time he wondered if it was possible for things to be different. Then the familiar feelings rose in him again. He didn’t want it to be different, as things stood he had all the control, he decided and no one else. A few hours in a field with a mouthy little girl wasn’t going to change that. No matter how adorable she was.  
The rest of the ride was full of question after question from the mouth of his exasperating companion. She could talk the ear off anyone and she became less adorable and more annoying the closer they got. By the time they were in view of the village walls he had rather a headache.  
“Sir, can you please stop and let me off here?”  
With pleasure, he thought, pulling the reins to halt Ragnar and ignoring the twist in his heart.  
“Papa would be very angry and afraid if he saw me on a stranger’s horse.” she stated as he helped her down. “Thank you. I had a very nice time.”  
“As did I little one.” he chuckled, realizing that he meant it.  
“The blacksmith is on the south side of the main square.” she stated. “Don’t be late for your silly party.”  
“The party doesn’t start until I get there, my sweet.”  
The child rolled her eyes as she started to scamper away.  
“Maybe when I grow up you will invite me to one of your parties, your highness.”  
And she was gone, leaving him stunned and bemused.  
Belle told no one of her meeting with the very confusing prince they all despised and by the next morning after a restless night and strange dreams of storms she had completely forgotten him, and indeed most of the day. She mourned the loss of her mother’s blanket with no realization that it had been left in the prince’s saddlebag.  
It was as if he had never existed at all.

 

“Belle, wake up darling, please.”  
She opened her eyes slowly, coming out of a fog of memory to his familiar and loved voice.  
“Adam? What happened?” she sat up, realizing she was on his bed in the west wing.  
“You fainted, my sweet. Mrs Potts was beside herself, you were so pale.”  
“I.” she furrowed her brow. “I remembered something from before. I hadn’t thought about it, but I was in the village when you were curse and it affected my memory too.”  
“What did you remember?” Adam stroked the back of her hand gently, his eyes full of concern.  
“A little girl with a book and a handsome but rather unpleasant man with a huge white horse. It was you, all those years ago and I had forgotten.”  
Hie eyes widened as realization dawned.  
That was you? That exasperating little girl in the clearing!”  
“I was not exasperating!”  
“You threw acorns at me, kicked me and called me old.” he laughed. “Come to think of it I should have known right away that it was you.”  
“Well you weren’t very nice to me.” Belle pointed out. “Either time we met.”  
“I taught you words and gave you a ride on my horse, I was a gentleman.”  
“That was the last day, wasn’t it?” she covered his fingers with her own.  
“The enchantress cursed me at the party that night.” he nodded, eyes darkening in shame as he remembered. “You were right, it wasn’t a very fun event. You must have thought I was a monster.”  
“I remember that I thought you looked sad,as well as pretty.” she chuckled.  
“You did say that.” he smirked. “Do you still think I’m pretty?”  
“Eh.” she shrugged, smiling at his raised brows. “No, I don’t think you are pretty anymore. I realize now that you are beautiful, inside and out.”  
Her hands tangled in his hair, remembering how they had itched to touch it all those years ago, pulling him down so she could kiss him soundly.  
“You are still kind of old though.”  
With a laugh he stood , walking over to a chest in the corner of the room. When he turned Belle saw her mother’s blanket in his hands.  
“Cogsworth found this when we let the horses go, after the curse. I kept it to remind me that not everything about my former life was dark and lonely.”  
“My blanket!” Belle jumped off the bed and ran to him, gathering up the treasured cloth between them. “Oh Adam I love you so much!”  
They clung to one another for hours, laying together as the sun set low in the sky, talking about the past and making plans for the future.  
Then they slept, that symbol of enduring love and their first destined meeting between them, and all the possibilities for the future ahead of them.


End file.
